


Relief

by notallbees



Series: Relief (omega!Hubert) [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alpha Ferdinand von Aegir, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Lactation, Lactation Kink, M/M, Male Lactation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Milking, No Spoilers, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Hubert von Vestra, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Pre-Relationship, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:06:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23518915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notallbees/pseuds/notallbees
Summary: Hubert is there, bent over one of the desks, both hands resting upon the cracked leather surface. He's removed his jacket, down to his shirtsleeves. There's no sign of another, yet this scent is one that Ferdinand knows well, as it's the scent of Hubert's annoyance, the way he always smells after they've gotten into a particularly virulent argument.When Ferdinand stumbles across Hubert in the throes of his heat, it seems only polite to offer a hand.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Series: Relief (omega!Hubert) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1704457
Comments: 27
Kudos: 235





	Relief

**Author's Note:**

> Uh so this happened.   
> 
> 
> Omegaverse-related warnings in end notes.

Ferdinand's sleepless nights have increased of late; walking helps, he finds. Keeping his feet moving helps to keep his mind quiet. He's passing by the old archives when he catches a familiar scent on the air that puzzles him deeply. He tilts his head, considering, and takes another deep breath. It's assuredly the same scent that he knows, although it puzzles him to find it here, in a forgotten part of the monastery. No less to come across it in the small hours of the morning, when all but the guards on patrol are fast asleep. Curious, he creeps over to the door, conveniently left ajar, and peeks inside. 

Hubert is there, bent over one of the desks, both hands resting upon the cracked leather surface. He's removed his jacket, down to his shirtsleeves. There's no sign of another, yet this scent is one that Ferdinand knows well, as it's the scent of Hubert's annoyance, the way he always smells after they've gotten into a particularly virulent argument. 

As there's nobody in sight, Ferdinand pushes the door a few inches, and Hubert's head snaps up to meet his gaze. 

"What are _you_ doing here?" 

Ferdinand frowns. "I wanted to see if you were alright."

Hubert huffs, something like a laugh but without any humour. "Of all the people to happen along." He pauses, eyes narrowing. "Or did you come looking for me?"

"Whatever for?" Ferdinand asks, bewildered. "Was there something you needed to discuss?"

"Absolutely not," Hubert spits. "Now get out of my sight."

Ferdinand bristles. He's about to retort with something rather rude when he notices the way Hubert's hands are clenched around the edge of the desk, and how flushed he looks, a bead of sweat running down the side of his face and into his collar. "Hubert," Ferdinand says, taking a step into the room. "You do not look well, may I not escort you to your room? Or the infirmary?"

Hubert bares his teeth. "Don't be stupid," he snarls. "The last thing I need just now is a healer." He heaves a sigh and lifts one shaking hand to cover his face momentarily. "Please. Let me suffer in peace."

He looks, in that moment, so pitiful, that Ferdinand is almost tempted to obey, but the same force compels him closer instead, instinctively reaching out. "Hubert, let me at least help you to your room."

"Mercy," Hubert groans, slumping forward over his desk as Ferdinand approaches. "Of all the Saints-damned busybodies—"

"Yes, yes," Ferdinand sighs, moving to support him, now that he's moderately certain he isn't about to have his extremities hexed off. He slips his hands under Hubert's armpits and hauls him upright. "Come now," he says in a brisk, nannyish tone. "You need rest. You're no good to the Emperor like this."

Hubert groans, and Ferdinand braces himself for a fight, but instead the other man sags in his arms. "I had hoped not to reveal myself in such an undignified manner."

Ferdinand frowns. "If you mean that you don't know your own limits when it comes to—" He pauses. Hubert tenses against him. Ferdinand licks his bottom lip slowly, then he lowers his face to the side of Hubert's neck and inhales deeply. 

"Don't—" Hubert hisses, stiffening in his arms. 

"Why didn't you _tell_ me?" Ferdinand murmurs, half in wonderment. Up close like this, he can pick up all the subtle notes of Hubert's scent that he's always kept tightly wrapped within layers of musty clothing. Without thinking, he tips his head against Hubert's, letting his breath ghost over the side of the other man's neck, lips flirting dangerously close to his skin. 

Hubert makes a noise, an unattractive cross between a gargle and a choking sound, and Ferdinand suddenly remembers himself. He straightens up hurriedly, drawing his face away from the tantalising curve of Hubert's neck, the musky, familiar scent. 

"I—forgive me." Ferdinand swallows heavily. "I did not realise you were in heat."

"You are, as ever, a master of failing to notice what is right under your nose," Hubert growls, but the threat is weak, his voice breathless and thready.

Ferdinand pushes down his temper. "If insulting me will help, then by all means, do as you will." He ought to let go now. Hubert would probably appreciate Ferdinand leaving him as he found him. But something stops him; there is the way that Hubert hasn't yet pushed him away, but mostly there's his scent. Deep and rich, bitter coffee grounds and old blankets and the smell of the pages of a well-kept book. "Tell me, Hubert," he murmurs. He adjusts his grip on the other man's chest, feeling the thin ribs beneath his fingers. "Why do you smell like your heat when we argue?"

Silence follows. Hubert swallows, audible in the still room. His lips part with a soft, wet sound that Ferdinand wants to taste. All the tension of the past few weeks, the increasing violence of their recent spats, the images that haunt Ferdinand when he lies awake at night; it coalesces in this moment, in the sharp indrawn breath before Hubert turns his head, seeking, and Ferdinand lifts his chin once more and captures his mouth in a kiss. 

Hubert makes a sound into his mouth, low and jagged like a wounded animal, and the tension crashes over them like a wave. Ferdinand moves a hand up to cup his jaw, kissing him more forcefully despite the awkward angle. He might have known that any such assignation with Hubert would be as difficult as possible. The other hand slides across Hubert's chest as he teases his tongue into the man's mouth, however his foray is quickly brought to an abrupt halt when he finds Hubert's clothing wet beneath his touch.

Clearly realising what he's discovered, Hubert stiffens once more in his arms and breaks off the kiss, turning his head forward. 

"Hubert—"

"This is a mistake."

"You know I would never mock you," Ferdinand says gently. He presses his forehead against the back of Hubert's neck. His skin is hot and damp beneath Ferdinand's. "You know me better than that." Ferdinand exhales slowly. He can't help but wonder if Hubert has ever spent his heat with anyone before. Curious, he moves his hands across Hubert's chest, seeking out the damp patches over the front of his shirt. "Hubert—"

Hubert huffs. "Very well," he mutters, and grabbing hold of Ferdinand's wrist, places his hand very deliberately over his left breast. 

"Oh, Hubert," Ferdinand breathes softly. He squeezes the spare flesh, and his insides quiver at the way Hubert shudders against him. Arousal spills down into Ferdinand's belly, and he allows himself to grab a firmer handful, both breasts this time, squeezing them firmly in his hands. Hubert's shirt is wet against his palms, and Ferdinand's mouth waters at the implication. He lets his lips flirt with Hubert's skin once more, brushing against the back of his neck, just above the collar of his shirt. 

Hubert shudders again, reaching back to seize a handful of Ferdinand's hair. "What do you intend?" he gasps, voice suddenly pitching higher when Ferdinand thumbs over his hard nipples. "To mount me? Claim me as your bitch?"

"Hubert," Ferdinand murmurs, chiding him softly. Loosening his grasp momentarily, he backs into the abandoned chair a few steps behind, and reaches out to place his hands on Hubert's waist, guiding him back into his lap. For several moments Hubert perches on his knee, as stiff and uncooperative as a straw doll, but he loosens when Ferdinand slides his hands up, tugging his shirt out of his trousers as he goes, bunching up the fabric around Hubert's chest. With a gentle tug, he urges Hubert back against him, palms cupping his tiny breasts once more. He moves his lips to Hubert's ear. "You've never done this before?"

"D-don't be—impudent," Hubert groans, trembling in his lap.

Ferdinand chuckles. He thumbs over Hubert's nipples again, firm against the stiff, damp fabric. Hubert doesn't resist when he grabs the hem and tugs the shirt up over his head, casting it aside before placing his hands back on Hubert's chest. 

"Y-you call this helping me?" Hubert grits out. "I thought you had _some_ modicum of sense, yet I see even you are easily swayed by a pair of breasts, even ones so meagre as these."

Ferdinand clicks his tongue impatiently and tugs Hubert back against him once more. "Their size is not important," he murmurs against Hubert's neck. His scent is so strong, nothing like Ferdinand's ever smelled before, he can't help himself from nuzzling into the scent gland below Hubert's ear, breathing in his damp skin. "I'm—mm, more curious as to the dampness." He gives Hubert's nipples a teasing pinch, and his cock throbs at the way Hubert flinches in his lap, his throat making an odd sound as he swallows down whatever noise he was compelled to make. "Is this a regular symptom?"

Hubert sighs. "A single solitary word comparing me to one of your brood mares and I shall—"

"Shh, shh," Ferdinand shushes gently, nuzzling the side of his neck again. "I only wish to bring you some relief."

"Then do it, by the Saints," Hubert snaps. "I'm not getting any younger."

Ferdinand bites his tongue and doesn't rise to the jibe. He might, normally, but it's hard to feel cross when he's holding Hubert in the palm of his hand like this; when he can feel how the other man is trembling in an effort to restrain himself. How badly Ferdinand wants to bring him release, to loosen the door he's fastened so tight. He starts to massage Hubert's breasts between his fingers, gently at first, then applying more pressure as Hubert begins, incrementally, to relax against him. The action is soothing for Ferdinand also; he's reminded of his childhood, of the milkmaid showing him how to milk the cows and the goat when he was very young: the patient, rhythmic movements. He emulates the memory without meaning to, starting at the outside and finishing with a firm squeeze of each nipple. 

Before long, Hubert has fully slumped against him, trying and failing to stifle little sounds of pleasure. His head falls back onto Ferdinand's shoulder after a minute or two, and then he gives a violent shudder, pressing his bony hips down against Ferdinand's thighs, and Ferdinand is graced with the sudden, stunning vision of twin arcs of milk jetting from Hubert's breasts, splattering their legs and the edge of the table. 

"Oh my, oh gosh—" he murmurs, his cock throbbing at the sight. 

"Don't _stop_ ," Hubert half growls, half wails, reaching back to seize a handful of his hair again. 

Ferdinand groans, aroused further by the rough handling, and takes a firmer grip on Hubert's hard little breasts, squeezing them with more determination. Hubert is writhing in his lap now, driving his hips back against Ferdinand's crotch and pressing his chest forward, for the moment uncaring of the sticky milk running down his chest and over his belly, soaking into his trousers. 

After several minutes, Hubert's violent responses calm, and his flow has reduced to a trickle. Releasing him gently, Ferdinand brings one sticky hand to his face, barely hesitating before sticking two fingers in his mouth and sucking them clean. The taste is musky and sweet, and he groans and chases the flavour over his fingers, his palm, down his wrist. 

"Stop that," Hubert groans finally, slapping his hand away. "You sound like a suckling piglet."

Ferdinand chuckles, and reaches down to run his hand over the sticky mess of Hubert's belly, the rough hair pearled with fluid. Then, feeling daring with Hubert still plastered against him and breathing hard, Ferdinand slides his hand down further, beneath the loose waistband of Hubert's trousers, and strokes him gently through his smallclothes. 

Hubert stiffens again, digging his fingers into Ferdinand's thigh like a claw. "What are you doing?" he hisses. 

"I don't believe," Ferdinand murmurs, lips soft against Hubert's ear, "that even someone as self-restrained as you are has never once diddled himself at the peak of his heat."

"Diddled myself?" Hubert repeats in an arch voice. "Where did you learn to talk like— _ah_!" His voice crests to a sharp peak and then softens into a sigh when Ferdinand presses down into the softness between his legs.

Ferdinand laughs low, delighted. "I don't believe it," he teases, using his free hand to unfasten Hubert's trousers. "Even _you_ happen to be soft somewhere."

Hubert hisses at him. "Another word—"

"Curse me in the morning, darling," Ferdinand murmurs, finally loosening the buttons of Hubert's trousers and tugging them open. He pushes a hand down into the rough, bunched up fabric of Hubert's smallclothes, and groans when his fingertips find the rich, velvet heat between his legs. Hubert tenses and then melts into him with a shuddery groan, fingers curling into Ferdinand's hair again. "Tell me if I'm too clumsy," he whispers, peering down over Hubert's sticky chest, watching where his hand disappears into Hubert's clothing. 

After teasing him for a minute or so, Hubert parts his legs with a sigh, and Ferdinand cheekily spreads his own thighs, pushing Hubert's even further apart. Hubert gives an outraged little yelp, but when Ferdinand reaches down lower to slip a finger into his slippery cunny, he receives only a shocked intake of breath, a shuddery groan. 

"Goddess," Ferdinand groans, forgetting himself for a moment. Hubert's cunny is so tight around his finger, although he's plenty wet enough, soaking right through his trousers and onto Ferdinand's thighs. He wonders if Hubert could even take his cock, and the thought almost proves too much for him, almost causing him to spend in his smalls like a boy. 

"I d-did not— _ah_ —ask for your h-help with this," Hubert stammers, as though he isn't rolling his hips down into Ferdinand's lap, spearing himself quite determinedly on Ferdinand's middle finger. 

Ferdinand scoffs lightly. "Perhaps you _should have_ ," he murmurs, emphasising his words with a thrust of his finger. 

"I've survived—plenty of heats—without your assistance." 

"If all you're going to do is complain," Ferdinand teases, withdrawing his finger. Before he can retract his hand entirely, Hubert grabs his wrist in a vice grip. "Easy," Ferdinand whispers, shushing him like a frightened foal. "I only want to bring you off."

Hubert huffs, but he loosens his grip minutely. 

Thus freed, Ferdinand skims his fingers through the soft, slippery folds of Hubert's cunny, then finds the little bud at the apex and circles it with his fingertip. 

"Oh," Hubert groans, going rigid in his arms. His grip on Ferdinand's wrist and hair are punishing, but Ferdinand doesn't stop, stroking him quickly, determined to bring him to his peak. Hubert's thighs begin to shake, clamping around Ferdinand's legs in a futile attempt to close; Ferdinand uses his superior thigh strength to hold him open. 

"Are you close?" Ferdinand growls, pressing his mouth to Hubert's scent gland. He tongues over it slowly, then grazes it with his teeth. "Hubert?"

"Y-yes," Hubert gasps. He's shuddering, throat working uselessly. 

Ferdinand scrapes his teeth over Hubert's neck again, then bites down hard. 

Hubert gives a low, soft cry, almost nothing at all, but it's enough for Ferdinand to realise what's happening even before he pushes a finger back inside and feels Hubert fluttering and clenching around him. 

"There we go," he soothes, nuzzling Hubert's neck. "Most elegantly done."

Hubert groans. "Do shut up, Ferdinand," he says weakly. 

Ferdinand chuckles. He removes his hands from Hubert's clothing, resting them lightly on his hips as he closes his knees together. Hubert is boneless against him, breathing hard. Fingers loose in Ferdinand's hair. He composes himself over a minute or so, finally sitting up, expressing a soft huff of displeasure at the state of himself. Ferdinand's cock is positively _throbbing_ within the confines of his trousers, but he doesn't for a second consider suggesting Hubert help him with it. 

Still, it doesn't take Hubert long to notice that Ferdinand has yet to reach a similar conclusion, and as he sits forward on Ferdinand's knee, he twists to look back at him. His eyes drop very deliberately to the bulge of Ferdinand's cock in his trousers, then flick back up to his face. "You're not going to ask me," he says, eyes narrowed.

He doesn't phrase it as a question, yet Ferdinand can hear the edges of one all the same. "I am a man of my word," he replies. "I told you I wanted to help."

Hubert makes a disbelieving little sound, then he rises suddenly, leaving Ferdinand feeling cold and bare in his wake. Hubert retrieves his damp shirt, donning it with a grimace, and fastening it into his trousers. Ferdinand's hand is still sticky with Hubert's release.

"It was not entirely wretched," Hubert says stiffly, gathering up his jacket. He lifts his free hand to his neck, briefly touching his scent gland before lowering his hand again. "Perhaps, if you don't irritate me, I may permit you to repeat your ministrations tomorrow evening."

Ferdinand lights up. "Do you really mean it?" he asks, thinking of the sticky sweet taste of Hubert's milk, of the impossible warmth and tightness between his legs, a challenge to him personally. 

Hubert's lip curls. "I can read you like a book. So eager to hump me like a dog." 

"I would be careful, Hubert," Ferdinand says, standing to meet him. "You might be surprised by how much you enjoy being humped like a dog."

Hubert sneers at him. "I'm not here to entertain your fantasies, Ferdinand."

Ferdinand hums. Feeling brave, he reaches out and skims his thumb over Hubert's nipple through the translucent fabric of his shirt. "Then perhaps I can entertain some of yours."

"Ha!" Hubert bats his hand away. "Goodnight, Ferdinand. 

"Hubert." Ferdinand inclines his head. "Rest well."

**Author's Note:**

> [RT on twitter](https://twitter.com/notallbees/status/1247298332101238784) | [my three houses fic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notallbees/works?fandom_id=23985107)  
> 
> 
> **Warning:** Omegas in my world generally have vaginas. I hate ass babies. Don't like don't read.


End file.
